The Mystery at Blackwater Falls

Author’s note:

This story takes place during spring break (the real spring break, not the one in Jim’s dream). It’s a few months after Jim and Trixie’s kiss on New Year’s.

“Gleeps!” Trixie Belden exclaimed as she peered out the window of the Wheelers’ private Canadair jet onto the ground below. “Look at all those mountains down there. I hope Bob can find a flat spot to land the plane on.”

Jim Frayne cast a fond glance in the sandy blonde’s direction. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing, Trix. Bob has been Dad’s pilot for several years and has landed planes all over the world.”

“Besides Trixie, if he has any trouble, his copilot can straighten him out,” Di commented. She nodded towards the cockpit, which was separated from the cabin by a curtain. “I talked to her before we took off, and Terry really knows her stuff.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t mind if she gave me flying lessons,” Brian replied with a grin.

“Brian!” the girls chorused.

“What?” he questioned innocently. “I just think she’s a good pilot; that’s all. She must’ve had a smart instructor.”

“Whatever,” Trixie giggled.

“Does the pilot or the copilot handle the landing?” Dan inquired with a slight tremor in his voice as he looked way, way down at the ground below.

“I don’t think it matters,” Mart answered. He pulled some brochures out of his duffel bag. “Either one of them could do it.”

Brian’s dark brows furrowed thoughtfully. “Are you sure? From what I’ve heard, landing’s the most difficult part of flying. It’s more complicated than most people think. One wrong move and KABOOM! Nothing left but charred remains.”

An audible gulp could be heard from Dan’s seat.

“Jeepers!” Trixie burst out, a twinkle in her blue eyes. “I hope we don’t run out of gas before we find someplace to land. From up here, I don’t see a single flat spot!”

“We’ll make it to the airport, Trix,” Jim told her.

Instead of making Trixie feel better, it only appeared to make her feel worse. Her previous exuberance waned slightly.

“Gee, Shamus, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were excited at the prospect of a crash landing,” Jim remarked, grinning.

Dan emitted a moan that could’ve been mistaken for a wounded walrus’s cry. “Will you please stop using the word ‘crash’? You’re going to jinx us.”

“Are you sure there’s an airport around here?” Di asked, peering out of her window. “All I see are mountains and trees.”

“Yes, there’s an airport,” Mart told her. “It’s in Elkins. According to MapQuest, it’s about thirty minutes from Blackwater Falls.”

“Di’s right, It really is mountainy down there,” Honey commented nervously, looking over Trixie’s shoulder to study the terrain. “I mean, I’ve seen bigger mountains, but it’s just that there are usually some flat spots, too. Everything down there is on a hill.”

“How can you tell what the ground looks like when we’re 25,000 feet in the air?” teased Jim. “Do you have radar vision?”

Honey stuck her tongue out at her brother. “No, Mister Smarty-Pants, but if you take a look out your window, it’s pretty obvious that we’re flying over the Appalachian Mountain Range.”

Dan peeked out his window briefly, but then quickly turned back to the aisle of the airplane. After gripping the empty seat in front of him until his knuckles turned white, he rasped, “Yep, those look like biiig mountains down there.”

“Did you know that West Virginia’s mean elevation of 1,500 feet above sea level makes it the highest state east of the Mississippi?” Mart inquired, looking up from his travel brochure.

“Well, it is called the Mountain State,” Di giggled. She turned around in her seat to point at that particular phrase on the front of the guide Mart was reading.

“Another nickname is ‘Almost Heaven’,” Brian added. “I guess with all the mountains, you feel closer to the Pearly Gates when you’re in West Virginia.”

“Or maybe it’s harder for pilots to land here than they want to admit,” Trixie suggested mischievously, “and before the plane crash lands and explodes, you’re almost in heaven.”

Dan grew a little green around the gills and fastened his seat belt, although Bob hadn’t given them that particular warning yet.

“The highest peak of the Allegheny Mountains is in Spruce Knob,” Brian read from the brochure he held. “It’s almost 4,900 feet tall. Hey, according to this map, Spruce Knob isn’t far from where we’re staying at Blackwater Falls.”

“Maybe we can go there,” Di replied. “I’ll bet we could take some nice pictures to take back to Mr. Wheeler.”

“I thought the website for the resort said that Blackwater Falls was located in the Appalachian Mountains?” Honey queried, her delicate brow wrinkled in confusion.

“It is. The Appalachian Mountain Range extends from Québec to northern Alabama,” Mart explained in a scholarly tone. “Several ranges comprise the Appalachians, including the Alleghenies, the Blue Ridge Mountains, as well as our own Catskills.”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “Well, aren’t you just a wealth of useless information.”

“That information isn’t useless!” Di argued. She cast admiring glances in the direction of Trixie’s almost-twin. “Why, Mart’s just filled with all sorts of interesting facts!”

“Mart’s filled with something,” Dan muttered, poking his seatmate in the gut with his elbow. In spite of his current state of queasiness, he couldn’t resist such a plum opportunity to rib his best friend. “Of course, I always thought it was hot air…”

“From whence fly these fiery accusations?” Mart demanded in a wounded tone. “I merely answered our tawny-haired constituent’s inquiry, regarding the precise nomenclature of this vast precipitous region to which we sojourn. Frankly, I am aghast at these erroneous statements made by both my feminine-esque sibling, and my choicest hail-fellow.”

“I’m sure Daddy would appreciate lots of pictures,” Honey placated. Tactful girl that she was, she returned the topic of conversation to their trip. “He’s so disappointed that he couldn’t come. He and Mother were really looking forward to this vacation.”

Mr. Wheeler was considering buying a piece of property in Pendleton County, West Virginia. Before making a decision, he and Mrs. Wheeler had planned to go survey the land firsthand. He’d also asked the Bob-Whites to go with them so they could see the property as well.

The land he was considering had a large cabin on it, and included ten acres of property where he and his guests could hunt, ski, or fish. He’d made arrangements with a realtor to show him the property over spring break so the Bob-Whites could accompany him and Mrs. Wheeler. However, the California branch of Wheeler Enterprises had had an emergency and, at the last minute, he had to cancel.

Miss Trask, the faithful friend of the Bob-Whites, volunteered to escort the teenagers to Davis, WV so that their plans wouldn’t be spoiled. The group would be arriving Monday evening at Blackwater Falls State Park, and staying until Saturday morning.

“What kind of activities are there for us to do at the lodge?” Di asked.

“According to these brochures, there’re lots of trails for hiking,” Brian answered. “There’s even a stable that rents horses. That might be fun.”

“If your dad buys property here, maybe we could visit in wintertime,” Mart commented, studying the travel brochure. “This area’s known for its skiing. They have a bunch of downhill trails, in addition to several cross-country ones.”

“Ooh! We can rent bikes and ride along some of the trails,” Honey murmured as she turned backwards in her seat and peeked at the guide Brian held.

Jim looked over Brian’s shoulder. “It looks like the lodge also has a game room, as well as a pool and fitness center,” he added.

“We also could drive to Canaan Valley Resort, which is only about ten minutes away,” Mart mentioned. “They have a golf course, as well as several other trails where we can hike.”

“Ooh, they’ve got whitewater rafting!” Di squealed, spying a picture on the cover. “I’ve always wanted to try that.”

“Yeah, that would be fun,” Mart agreed. “This says they also offer kayaking, fishing, tennis, a rock-climbing wall, and bungee jumping.”

“Bungee jumping!” Trixie exclaimed in delight. “Now that’s something we’ve never done.”

“B-bungee jumping?” Dan stammered, growing a bit pale. “I think I’ll have to skip that.”

“Aw, come on, Dan!” Di encouraged. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I must’ve left it at home along with my sense of security,” he deadpanned. “I’ll think I’ll just stand on the ground and wave as you bounce by.”

Honey giggled and pointed to Miss Trask, who was asleep several rows ahead of them. “I doubt we’ll do any bungee jumping during this trip. I have a feeling that somebody wouldn’t approve of that particular activity.”

Jim nodded his affirmation. “Bungee jumping might be too dangerous. I don’t think Miss Trask would let us do it without our parents’ permission.”

“Yeah, squaw. You get into enough trouble on the ground,” Mart snorted. “I’d hate to see what sort of predicament you’d encounter bungee jumping. You’re an accident waiting to happen, and that’s without dangling from a precarious precipice, with only a flimsy rubber band keeping you from plummeting to your gruesome death.”

Trixie stuck her tongue out at her almost-twin. “Thanks ever so much for that vote of confidence, brother of mine. Your unwavering belief in me brings a tear to my eye.”

“I’m going to have to side with Mart on this one, Trix,” Brian said with a broad grin. “I think it would be best to skip bungee jumping on this particular outing.”

“I think Trixie would make a fabulous bungee-jumper-person!” Honey declared loyally. “Why, she’s so bouncy, she wouldn’t even need the cord.”

“She could just use one of her curls,” Jim teased, tugging on his favorite one.

Trixie’s cheeks colored slightly pinkish, as they did every time Jim tugged on “his” curl.

“Is that a ski lift?” Di questioned, wrinkling her nose and pointing to a picture.

“Looks like it,” Mart answered.

“That’s a summer picture,” she commented, a puzzled look clouding her pretty face. “I know that area is known for its skiing, but surely they don’t have snow this time of year.”

“They run their ski lift in the summer as a scenic chair ride,” Brian corrected. “We could take a tour over the entire resort and get the bird’s eye view.”

Dan cleared his throat nervously, and then whisked the stack of travel guides out of Mart’s hand. “Sorry, but I’ll have to pass on that one, too.”

“I think it sounds like fun,” Honey replied. “I’d like to try it.”

Trixie scrunched up her nose as she pondered Dan’s words. “Gleeps, Dan! You don’t want to do anything high up—”

“Hey, it looks like they have some caves nearby,” Dan interrupted, nonchalantly changing the subject. “Wonder if they have that fish that you told me about.”

“I doubt it,” Jim told him. “If they give tours in those caves, then the ghost fish couldn’t live in there. There would be too much light.”

“What caves are nearby?” Di inquired. “I didn’t get to go to the Ozarks, so I’d like to explore one during this trip.”

“Smoke Hole and Seneca Caverns,” Dan answered, handing her the brochures over the seat. “According to this, they give year-round tours.”

“We’ll have to try that,” Jim agreed, “especially since both Di and Dan didn’t get to explore Bob-White Cave. I think it would be fun, as long as Trixie doesn’t fall into any sinkholes, that is.”

“But if she does, you’ll be there to rescue her, won’t you, Jim?” Mart’s mischievous twinkling eyes belied his innocent tone.

“Sure I will,” Jim answered with a wink to “his special girl”.

Trixie blushed to the roots of her sandy curls, and her crimson cheeks flamed even hotter when she peeked at Jim’s lopsided grin.

“I’ll go as long as there aren’t any tour guides named Slim,” Honey giggled. “It seems every Slim we meet turns out to be a crook.”

“Well, if you’re working on another case and run into any more Slims, you’ll know who did it,” Brian said with a wink.

A loud rumbling drew everyone’s attention to the general vicinity of Mart’s stomach. He sank back in his seat, and with a sheepish smile asked, “How much longer until we land?”

“Do you mean: How much longer until dinner?” teased Honey.

“Judging by the turbulence we’ve been experiencing, we should be landing soon,” Jim answered.

“Uh… is turbulence what’s making the plane shake?” Dan’s face was even paler than it had been a few moments ago. “Or did something important fall out of the engine?”

“We’re fine, Dan,” Di replied, innocently batting her violet eyes. “We just lost a turbine or two. We have a whole ten minutes before we all die in a fiery explosion.”

Dan gripped the seat in front of him until his knuckles grew white again. “Please tell me she’s teasing! I’m too young and handsome to die!”

“She’s teasing,” Mart assured him. He studied his friend’s ashen face, and then soberly added, “We’ll be dead from the impact of the crash long before the plane explodes.”

Dan groaned and doubled over.

“Are you okay, dude?” Mart asked, his earlier mirth turning into concern, particularly since he was in the trajectory path if Dan puked. “You look a bit green.”

Dan held his hand over his mouth and nodded.

Digging in the magazine holder on the back of the seat in front of him, Mart pulled out a Sick Sac and offered it to his seatmate. “If you feel like you’re going to hurl, please ralph in this complimentary barf bag. I just bought these sneakers, and I’d prefer for them to remain vomit-free.”

Dan rolled his eyes. ”I’m not going to pu—” As the plane hit another patch of turbulence, he quickly snatched the Sick Sac out of Mart’s hand and held it up to his mouth.

“What’re you supposed to do before a crash?” he gasped between deep breaths. “Stop, drop, and roll?”

“That’s what you do if you catch on fire,” Trixie corrected with a laugh. “You’re thinking of ‘assuming the crash position’.”

Dan looked up nervously as Trixie demonstrated the aforementioned position. He quickly mimicked her actions and tucked his head between his knees.

“We’re not going to crash!” Jim exclaimed in a less-than-amused tone. He cast a scolding look at Mart. “Quit razzing him.”

“It’s common to experience turbulence before the plane lands, Dan,” Honey explained. “Especially in these smaller jets.”

“Are you sure you’re okay, Danno?” Brian inquired as he watched their friend grow steadily paler with each passing second. “Do we need to make an emergency landing?”

Dan shook his head repeatedly. His eyes pleaded desperately that any thoughts of an emergency landing be forgotten.

“Wow,” murmured Jim in amazement as he studied Dan’s ashen complexion. “I’ve never seen anyone look that green before.”

“Why, Dan ‘the Man’ Mangan!” Trixie exploded with a saucy grin. “Do my eyes deceive me, or are you having a panic attack?”

Dan sat up, muttering unintelligible insults under his breath. If he hadn’t had a death grip on the back of the empty seat beside Di, he might’ve been tempted to throw in an obscene gesture or two as well.

“Surely big, tough, bad boy Danno isn’t afraid to fly?” Honey teased.

“Of course not!” Di exclaimed, her violet eyes wide with feigned innocence. “A bad hombre like Danny Boy wouldn’t be terrified of flying thousands of miles in the air, with nothing but clouds holding him up.”

The unintelligible muttering turned into a muffled squeak as a mental image consumed Dan’s thoughts. He frantically banged on the compartment that held the oxygen mask.

“Oxygen!” he panted, his breathing ragged. “I need a snoot of oxygen.”

“The flight attendant, or in this case the pilot, has to release those, Dan,” Trixie informed him.

“Just breathe in and out of your barf bag,” Honey instructed soothingly. “You’ll be okay.”

“Unless the cabin pressure drops and the oxygen masks get stuck,” Di remarked as she studied her French manicure.

“Oh, God!” Dan prayed, animatedly crossing himself over and over again.

Trixie, Honey and Di doubled over in laughter. “Dan’s afraid of flying; Dan’s afraid of flying,” Trixie chanted. Honey and Di soon joined in the chorus, and the three girls repeated the phrase several times in a sing-song voice.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Brian finally interrupted with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Dan’s not afraid of airplanes. He’s flown lots of times, haven’t you, Dan?”

“Yeah,” Mart said, nodding. He might be allowed to tease his best friend, but there would be heck to pay if anyone else tried it. “Like when we went to Arizona for Christmas to visit Di’s Uncle Monty.”

Trixie grinned smugly. “That was before Dan moved to Sleepyside. He didn’t go on that trip.”

“Well, how about when we went to Iowa?” Jim suggested.

“Nope.” Honey shook her head. “I believe he had to be tutored during that vacation.”

Mart scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I know! How about when we went to the Ozarks and stayed with Uncle Andrew in his cabin there?”

“We talked about this earlier, Mart,” Di reminded him sweetly. “Dan and I both had to miss that trip. I think I was in California and Dan was working for Mr. Maypenny.”

“Didn’t he go to Idaho, when we solved the mystery about the sasquatch?” Brian inquired.

“Nope,” Trixie corrected with a satisfied smile. “Much to my *cough, cough* dear cousin Hallie’s dismay, Dan had to spend that week working as a camp counselor.”

“So Dan hasn’t ever flown?” Jim asked incredulously. He looked at Dan to answer the question; however, Dan looked too nauseous to be bothered.

Honey chewed on her lower lip, and then spoke up. “Oh! He did fly once— to St. Louis!”

“Are you sure?” Mart furrowed his sandy brows as he tried to remember. “I thought for sure that he had to chop some wood or something…”

“No, I’m the one who missed St. Louis,” Di corrected. “I think I had to go on some stupid trip with my family or baby-sit or something like that.”

Mart nodded slowly. “Oh, yeah. I do seem to remember Dan being there. So see there? Dan has flown before.”

Trixie crossed her arms and smiled slyly. “Yes, my dear almost-twin, but do you remember anything about the plane ride to and from Missouri?” She paused only for a moment, and then impatiently blurted out, “He was sound asleep the whole way! I’ll bet Mr. Wheeler doped him up!”

“That’s ridiculous!” Jim sputtered indignantly. “Dan’s not afraid of flying, so why would Dad have to drug him?”

“I remember that, too, Trixie!” Honey exclaimed in surprise, ignoring Jim’s statement. “At the time, I thought Dan was just exhausted from chopping wood, when actually, Daddy gave him something to make him sleep. It all makes perfectly perfect sense now.”

“Mr. Wheeler wouldn’t medicate anyone!” Brian argued. After a slight pause, he raised a wary brow and added, “Would he?”

“He might, if Dan needed something to help him relax,” Trixie said. “A lot of people who’re afraid of flying have to take something to keep them from going crazy on the plane.”

Honey nodded. “Sometimes Mother takes a high-powered Valium before a long trip.”

“But Dad wouldn’t give Mother’s pills to Dan,” Jim contended stubbornly.

“Well, maybe Dr. Ferris—” Honey began.

“It doesn’t matter because it’s not true,” Mart blurted out in defense of his best friend. “Tell her, Dan. Tell her you’re not afraid to fly.”

“Yeah, tell us, Dan,” Trixie prompted with a saucy grin.

“Deep down, I always knew that if Dan had chopped as much wood as he claimed, the preserve wouldn’t have any trees left,” Di commented wisely.

The small cabin was abuzz with six of the seven Bob-Whites rapidly stating their views all at the same time. Finally, Dan sat upright and held up his hands in an effort to quiet them. In a last ditch effort to calm them, he pursed his lips and gave a shrill Bob! Bob-White whistle.

“Okay, I admit it!” he roared. “I’m afraid of flying! Now can you all just shut up and let me spend my final moments alive in silence?”

A hush fell over the crowd. Of course, after two minutes, Mart could remain silent no more.

“Next time Dan flies, we’re taking the Mr. T approach,” he groused. “Knock him out, throw him in a seat, and buckle him in.”

“Do it and die, Belden,” Dan growled threateningly. Suddenly, the plane hit another patch of turbulence, and his tune changed faster than a jukebox’s. “Knock me out, Mart! Knock me out!” he pleaded, clutching the neck of Mart’s orange polo shirt.

Although the boys were disappointed by this revelation, the girls found Dan’s fear immensely humorous. Once again, they doubled over in a fit of giggles.

“Oh, I can’t wait to tell everyone that ‘Dan the Man’ is afraid of flying,” Trixie managed, leaning on Honey’s shoulder for support.

“Here we thought he was so tough,” Honey wheezed, wiping a tear. Then she continued in a falsetto voice, “I can’t go the trip! I’ve gotta chop wood! I’ve gotta be a camp counselor! I’ve gotta patrol the preserve!”

Di’s face was red from the lack of oxygen caused by her constant giggling. “Trixie, we HAVE to call Hallie when we get to the resort!”

Dan jerked his head up and stared menacingly at the three girls. “Hallie doesn’t need to know about this.”

“Of course she does, Dan,” Trixie tittered. “My *cough, cough* dear cousin thinks you were ignoring her by not coming to Idaho with the rest of us. She had no idea you just had an unfounded fear of flying.”

“Wait a minute—” Dan began. He attempted to discreetly wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead as the jet hit another patch of turbulence.

“Why, Dan Mangan, is that perspiration I see?” Di leaned over the back of her seat and reached out to touch Dan’s sweaty forehead.

“Hey, quit it,” he snapped as he swatted away her hand.

“I think it’s a little chilly in here,” Honey commented. “You aren’t hot, are you? Or maybe you’re perspiring from fear? Haven’t you ever heard that commercial, Dan?” She assumed a deep bass voice. “Don’t ever let ‘em see ya’ sweat.”

Dan closed his eyes, leaned his head against the window, and pretended to fall asleep. After a moment or so, he warily stood and began trying to lift the emergency life preserver out of the seat.

“That floatation device isn’t gonna help you if we crash into the mountains,” Trixie replied, an impish twinkle in her china blue eyes.

Honey dug into her expensive Gucci purse and found a handkerchief with her initials embroidered on it. “Here, Dan. You can wipe your perspiration with this.” She offered him the hanky across the aisle, but he was too busy trying to dislodge his seat cushion to take it.

Mart groaned. “Lay off him, squaws. And by the way, we’re guys, so we don’t perspire; we sweat.”

Trixie snickered from her seat across the aisle from Di. “Is that another one of those terms that men get all defensive about?”

“What’s wrong with perspiring?” Honey asked curiously.

“Perspiring is for sissies,” Jim explained as if it should’ve been obvious. “When we go out and hike in the woods, we sweat.”

“And then you stink,” Trixie giggled, turning around in her seat to look at Jim. She tucked her legs under her, and faced the back of the plane.

“Yes. Yes, we do,” Brian agreed adamantly. “We sweat, we stink, and we’re proud of it.”

“Sweat, perspire, what’s the difference?” Di flipped her black hair off her shoulders and shrugged. “It’s all gross.”

“There’s a big difference,” Mart snorted. “You girls need to learn that those of us of the masculine variety have a certain standard by which we live our lives. According the fraternal code, we of the manly gender do not perspire. When we exercise, potent, testosterone-filled molecules of sweat emanate from our studly physiques.”

“Studly, pudly,” Trixie muttered with a sniff of indifference. “Guys get too worked up over stupid little names.”

“Yeah, don’t be so nitpicky,” Honey chided. “Daddy’s manly and he perspires. And so does Mr. Belden. And Mr. Lynch may’ve even perspired, too, a long time ago, before he was quite so jolly and quit exercising.”

The boys glared at the girls, their mouths agape in horror.

“I don’t care how rich Dad is, he still sweats when he jogs,” Jim sputtered, his emerald green eyes shooting fiery darts. “He sweats, and he stinks. Really bad, too.”

“And don’t insult us Beldens by saying our dad doesn’t sweat,” Brian argued angrily. “Peter Belden has never ‘perspired’ a day in his life. Do you think he wears pink panties?”

“We’ve never really thought about what kind of underwear Dad wears, have we, ladies?” Trixie waited for her friends to back her up. However, Honey and Di were strangely silent. Honey nervously twisted a strand of tawny-colored hair, and Di covered her mouth with a well-manicured hand.

Trixie groaned, slapping her forehead with her hand. “What’s the difference?” she finally exclaimed after realizing her friends were exercising their Fifth Amendment rights. “Is this another one of those ‘thlumber party’ things?”

“Yes,” Jim affirmed in a serious tone, “yes, it is. It’s an attack on our manhood to say that we ‘perspire’. You might as well castrate us now.”

Brian motioned to his three male friends. “We are men.” He individually pointed to Trixie, Di, and Honey. “You are women. There’re certain differences between the two sexes that cannot be disputed.”

“We learned those differences in kindergarten, Brian,” Trixie snorted. “Actually, I learned them in the bathtub with Mart when we were two- and three-years old.”

“Our differences go beyond genitalia,” Mart explained sagely. “We robust, virile stallions have a masculine code, which includes certain guidelines to which we must adhere at all times.”

“Oh, great,” Trixie mumbled under her breath. “Here comes another lesson in the ‘isms of the brotherhood’.”

“For example,” Jim began, “guys do not ‘fix their hair’. We comb it.”

“Sometimes, we’re too lazy to comb it,” Brian pointed out. “If we’re in a hurry, we just wash it, rub it with a towel and say, ‘Hey, that’s as good as it gets’.”

“And sometimes we don’t even do that,” Mart went on. “Sometimes, we just stick a hat on and go.” He pointed to his own baseball cap as proof.

“And when our hair gets too long, we don’t have ‘hair appointments’,” Jim added emphatically. “We go to the barber and get it cut.”

Di’s violet eyes grew wide with wonder. “You really don’t have hair appointments, Jim? That’s horrible, because I always feel so much better after a day of pampering the salon. I’m so sorry that you don’t get that experience.” Her sympathetic tone made the boys cringe and become even more defensive.

“No frosting, no tipping, no coloring, no perming, no extensions,” Brian clarified.

“Just buzz it, cut it, wash it, maybe comb it… That’s it,” Mart proclaimed, crossing his arms in finality.

Dan looked up at them weakly. “And no sparkly butterfly clips, either,” he added, looking pointedly at Di.

“Furthermore, there’s no facials, no manicures, no hot oil treatments,” Jim went on.

“No tweezing, no plucking, no waxing,” Brian continued.

“Just slap some shaving cream on, rake a dull, rusty razor over your cheeks and, in spite of the stinging, apply some aftershave,” Mart put in. “And none of that ‘girly-smelling’ aftershave. Something rugged and woodsy.”

Dan looked up once more. “And we don’t use that Nair crap, either.”

Simultaneously, the girls leaned back in their seats, wiggled their legs around, and then hoisted them up in the air. “But Nair is so very…”

“Girly!” the boys piped loudly.

“Well, I can understand about not using Nair,” Trixie replied. “But I still don’t see why guys don’t perspire. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Medical Student, but it is a medical term, common to both sexes.”

Brian sniffed in a male-dominant way then crossed his arms. “That’s easy to explain, little sister. All the medical books are written by women in a conspiracy to remove distinction between the sexes.”

Honey groaned and shook her head in disbelief. “Sure, Oliver Stone. Next you’ll be telling us that the shooter on the grassy knoll was a girl.”

“No, we won’t,” Mart replied with a smirk. “We know that girls can’t shoot.”

“Girls can shoot just as good as boys,” Trixie argued. “Even though you only taught us a year or two ago, we can shoot a rifle just as good as you, Mart Belden.”

“Says you,” her almost-twin needled.

Squaring her shoulders and welcoming the challenge, Trixie persisted, “If you have any doubts about our ability, let’s go to this skeet shoot thing at Canaan Valley and see for ourselves.”

Something between a chuckle and a snort erupted from Mart. “Ah, you lazy squaws would be better off spending your time in the beauty shop.”

His chuckle/snort quickly turned into a gasp. He covered his head with his arms as Trixie, Honey, and Di simultaneously pummeled him with the travel guides they had in their hands.

“Hey! You’re bending them!” he cried as he tried to snatch them out of their collective grasps.

“Let me see when the skeet shoot is!” Trixie argued.

Mart managed to get his fingers on the top of the brochure she held and give it a good tug. That made Trixie pull all the harder. The siblings continued their game of tug-of-war until…

RIIIP!!!

Mart’s mouth opened wide, but no words came out. He stared in stunned silence at the bottom half of the travel guide in his hand.

Trixie gasped in surprise, but her gasp quickly turned into a muffled giggle. “Oh, did you want this back, Mart?” she inquired innocently as she handed him the top portion of the brochure.

Finally, Mart found his voice. “Look what you did,” he sputtered as he studied the mangled halves of paper he held in his hands. “You ripped it in half! Now I need a new one.”

Jim swiftly snatched the remaining brochures out of Honey and Di’s hands while he glared at Mart and Trixie. “We’ll get you a new one when we land. Now shut up. You’re going to wake up Miss Trask, and we don’t need a grumpy chaperone.”

“Let’s go to this skeet shoot thing, Mart Belden,” Trixie hissed in a quieter voice, pointing to the advertisement on the Canaan Valley paper. “We’ll see if girls can shoot or not.”

“Forget about it, Trix,” Brian advised.

“I will not forget about it.” Trixie stiffened as she glared at her middle brother. “You’re going down, Mart Belden.”

“Oh, I’m sweating now,” Mart chortled.

With a flourish, Di pulled a dark orchid lacy handkerchief out of her Coach handbag. Before Mart could bat an eye, she had wiped his forehead with it. “Nope, no manly molecules of sweat.” She examined the hanky, and then added with a wink, “That’s perspiration.”

“Let the record show that that a bead of ‘perspiration’ has never oozed out of the pores of the Bob-White males,” Brian protested. “The astronomical amount of testosterone in our sweat makes it fall in heavy drops when we’re hot. Science can’t even explain why our sweat is so potent.”

“And if we didn’t use deodorant, our manly musk would drive you insane,” Jim bragged. “You wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off our glistening torsos.”

“Puuh-leaze,” Trixie sniffed indignantly with a toss of her sandy curls. She had to force herself not to dwell on the thought of Jim’s sweaty torso.

Brian pointed his index finger at them. “Don’t underestimate the power of our masculine scent.”

Clasping her hands together beside her chin, Honey gushed, “Oh my! I can’t help myself! I’m falling under the power of the pheromones. Trixie, stop me now or I’ll rip my clothes off and have my evil way with this sweaty lumberjack.”

“And all this time,” Di mused aloud, “I thought it was body odor, and here I find out it’s pheromones.”

“Sure, laugh all you want now, but just wait until a sweaty sheen covers our bodies after a long hike,” Jim stated, using his lethal lopsided grin as a weapon. “Women will come out of the woodwork to rip off our clothes.”

Honey wrinkled her nose. “Eewww! Like we want to see sweaty nekkid Jim!”

After a quick glance at Mart, Di nodded her head. “Yeah.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Honey could see that Trixie was in deep thought. And judging from the faraway look in her eyes, it was some thought. Coming to her best friend’s rescue, Honey swiftly poked her in the ribs with her elbow, and without moving her mouth, prompted, “Me either.”

Trixie jerked her head up and plastered a smile on her face. “Me either!”

“Is that a challenge?” Jim questioned, his emerald eyes locking with Trixie’s sapphire ones.

Trixie gulped loudly. “To see nekkid Jim?” she squeaked out.

“No, to see if we sweat or perspire!” Brian stormed.

“I think this calls for some sort of strategy, men,” Mart declared bravely. “A diabolical plan that will forever prove to these naïve females that we don’t perspire; we sweat.”

“A pie-eating contest?” Trixie suggested wryly.

“A paper-pushing challenge?” Honey proposed.

“A yodeling tournament?” Di offered, managing to keep a straight face.

Jim stared at the three females, his green eyes shooting daggers at them. “Men, this calls for a conference. No girls allowed.” He stood and walked to the front of the plane nearer to where Miss Trask was sitting.

Brian followed, carefully studying his sister and her two friends. “And no eavesdropping,” he warned. “This is a manly huddle and nobody with breasts is allowed.”

The girls stifled a giggle at hearing Brian say the word “breasts,” then began whispering amongst themselves in the aisle of the plane.

“A-hem!” Mart cleared his throat. “Please step aside, ladies. My Irish compatriot and I require passage.” He yanked on his seatmate’s arm. “Come on, Dan!”

Dan appeared quite leery of leaving the safe confines of his seat. However, after grabbing his life preserver from its compartment and holding it closely to his chest, he hesitantly followed Mart.

He attempted a manly expression. “Only those with a Y chromosome are allowed,” he admonished sternly.

Trixie, Honey and Di all stuck out their tongues as he passed. Once he had joined the group, the boys placed their arms around each others’ necks, much like a football huddle. Occasionally, one of the guys would peek back to make sure that the girls weren’t listening.

The three girls assumed a similar position.

“What’re we doing?” whispered Honey.

“We’re pretending to have a conference,” Trixie murmured. “So ignore them and whisper.”

“What about?” Di questioned in her lowest voice.

“It doesn’t matter,” Trixie answered softly. “Just make it look good.”

“Oh, I get it,” Honey exclaimed, then covered her mouth in embarrassment. She continued, but this time much quieter. “We’re just making them think that we’re talking about something important.”

Trixie smiled slyly. “Exactly.”

“Ah, I understand now,” Di nodded. “This is all a farce. We’re just making them perspire, wondering what we’re talking about.”

Trixie and Honey covered their mouths with their hands to stifle their giggles.

“You need to learn this stuff, Di,” Trixie whispered. “With two twin brothers AND Bobby hanging around your house, you’ll need to become familiar with these types of maneuvers.”

Di grinned wickedly. “I’ll be sure and remember this tactic. Now, don’t I look like I’ve said something utterly evil and diabolical?”

Trixie and Honey giggled again.

“You catch on fast,” Honey tittered.

The girls were so wrapped up in their own conversation that they didn’t hear the boys approach. All together, the guys cleared their throats.

“Pardon us,” Jim replied in a dignified voice. “Our meeting has been adjourned, and we need to sit down. We’ll be landing soon.”

The girls primly reclaimed their own seats, allowing the boys to walk past them.

Once they were all seated, Di inquired, “Oh, ye manly men with the elusive Y chromosome, what fate awaits we of the feminine species?”

“After careful deliberation, we have decided upon the most effective method to prove our point,” Brian declared grandly.

“By the end of this week, I’m sure we’ll all be in agreement that men do not perspire; they sweat,” Jim replied with a satisfied smile.

Trixie threw her hands up in exasperation. “This is totally ridiculous!”

“Bite your tongue, Trixie,” Honey chided. “Let’s hear what they have planned for us.”

“I believe Mart has been chosen as our speaker,” Dan told them as he gestured to his seatmate. “Please take the floor, Professor Belden.”

“Thank you, Master Mangan,” Mart answered.

Di giggled in delight. “This should be good.” She leaned forward against the back of her seat and craned her ear to Mart, who sat directly behind her.

“In response to our testosterone-challenged constituents’ claims, we shall prove conclusively that sweat emanates from the glands of the male species of the Homo sapiens,” Mart elucidated. “Therefore, we have elected to forego usage of the compound aluminum zirconium pentachlorohydrex mingled with the base of cyclopentasiloxane, stearyl alcohol, ether, castor oil, mysristyl myristate, silica dimethyl silylate, fragrance, and silica.”

Noticing Trixie, Honey and Di’s “deer in the headlights” expressions, Brian loosely translated, “Deodorant.”

Honey scrunched up her face in disgust. “You’re not going to wear deodorant? Eewww!”

“None at all?” Trixie questioned as she stared in consternation.

“Not a bit,” Jim affirmed.

“For how long?” Di queried.

“All week,” Mart answered smugly.

Trixie snarled her lip. “According to the Weather Channel, it’s supposed to get pretty hot in Davis. Temperatures may reach a high of almost 80 degrees.”

“Great, that makes it even better.” Brian leaned back in his seat with his hands clasped behind his head. “You know, this is my favorite way to sit. Just think about how pungent my underarms will be this week after a few long hikes through the woods.”

Honey grimaced. “Ummm… West Virginia is a very muggy state. It’ll feel even hotter with the humidity.”

“Then we’re going to the perfect place to conduct our experiment,” Jim said with a grin. “More humidity means more sweating.”

“And more stinking,” Mart added with a waggle of his sandy brows.

Di wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I don’t know about Honey and Trixie, but I’m convinced. Men don’t perspire; they sweat. No need to reek for our benefit.”

“Too late,” Brian told her. “We’ve made a pact, and it’s too late to turn back now. By the end of this vacation, you’ll see how real men sweat.”

“Oh, I didn’t know Ned Shultz was coming along,” Trixie commented cattily. “If anyone sweated, it would be ‘The Sheik’. He’s so dreamy.”

Jim clenched his jaw at the mention of the handsome basketball player from Iowa. “As president, I move all discussion of this topic be closed, and declare this to be ‘no-deodorant-for-the-guys’ week.”

Trixie cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Frayne, but as co-president, I’m going to have to veto that decision.”

“Fair enough, Madam Co-President,” Jim agreed in a strangely solicitous tone. “Of course, since we have differing opinions about this matter, I believe this calls for a vote. All in favor of this being ‘no-deodorant-for-the-guys’ week, say aye.”

“Aye,” Jim, Brian, Mart, and Dan chorused.

“Any opposed?” Jim offered.

“Aye!” Trixie, Honey, and Di chimed.

Jim grinned and shrugged his broad shoulders. “Sorry, girls, but it’s four to three in favor of ‘no deodorant’. Looks like we’ll be blessing you with our manly, musky scents all week long.”

“Miss Trask didn’t vote!” Honey sputtered, pointing to their chaperone who was sleeping near the front of the plane.

“Miss Trask isn’t a Bob-White,” Dan pointed out. “She can’t vote.”

“All in favor of making Miss Trask an honorary Bob-White say aye,” Trixie proposed quickly.

“Aye!” the three girls yelled.

“All opposed?” Jim questioned.

“Aye!” the four boys grunted.

Di sat back in her seat, her pretty lips forming a perfect pout. “It’s not fair. Why, this club is just sexist! The girls are outnumbered four to three, so we can’t win.”

“It’s all Dan’s fault,” Trixie grumbled. “We were even until he joined. Whose stupid idea was it to ask him to be a Bob-White anyway?”

Mart attempted to keep the grin off his face as he looked at his almost-twin but failed miserably. “Why my dear Beatrix, if my photographic memory serves me correctly, I do believe that it was your idea to invite Esquire Mangan to become a member of our club, toots.”

Trixie scowled at her middle brother. “Well, if any of you he-men start smelling like Pigpen from the Peanuts cartoon, Honey, Di, and I will hold you down and force some Speed Stick under your putrid armpits.”

The four boys sat back in their seats with satisfied expressions on their faces.

“I wouldn’t look so smug if I were you,” Honey warned. “And you’d better enjoy our presence now, because once the flies start swarming, we don’t know you.”

“Yeah, and there definitely won’t be any group hugs on this trip,” Di vowed, much to Mart’s disappointment.

The conversation abruptly ended as Bob Murphy’s voice came over the intercom. “Everyone needs to buckle their seatbelts. We’re nearing Elkins Airport and preparing to land.”

The Bob-Whites hurried to obey the pilot’s command. Honey thoughtfully awakened Miss Trask so she could buckle her belt.

As the plane began its descent, Dan gripped the seat’s armrest like his life depended upon it.

“Are you all right?” Mart questioned, critically studying his friend.

Dan shook his head vigorously back and forth.

“You need a Sick Sac?”

Once again, Dan shook his head.

“Relax, Dan,” Di soothed from her seat in front of them. “It’s almost over now. We’ll be on the ground any minute, safe and sound.” She paused dramatically, and then added, “Unless we hit that mountain, that is.”

Dan screamed like a little girl and clutched Mart’s shoulder. “Hold me!”

Suddenly, a loud clanking made Dan unbuckle his seatbelt and hop onto Mart’s lap.

“Oh God!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “We’re all going to die!”

Mart squirmed and pushed at his friend, but he couldn’t release Dan’s vise grip on his arm. “Get off! That was just the landing gear!”

“I don’t believe you!” Dan wailed, his eyes closed so he wouldn’t witness their fiery demise.

“It is, too!” Mart argued. “Besides, if you’re so worried about crashing, shouldn’t you put on your seatbelt?”

The two scuffled back and forth for the duration of the landing. Thankfully, since he had wrapped his wiry arms around Mart’s neck, Dan didn’t go flying down the aisle of the jet.

However, there was no need for Dan to worry; Bob Murphy, assisted by his faithful copilot, Terry, skillfully eased the landing gear onto the runway. The pilots smoothly guided the bird to a stop, touching down as easily as a feather landing on a satiny comforter.

Finally, the Bob-Whites were free to gather their carryon luggage and get off the plane. As previously arranged, a rental van was waiting for them at the small airport. As Miss Trask signed the necessary papers and got the keys, the group chitchatted with Bob and Terry while Dan breathed deeply and kissed the ground.

After a few minutes, Miss Trask pulled the ten-passenger van around to the cargo hold of the jet. She got out and unlocked the doors in the back.

“You girls wait here while we put the luggage in the van,” Jim ordered.

“We can load our own suitcases, Frayne,” Trixie argued, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at him.

“Now, now,” Brian replied in a patronizing tone. “We wouldn’t want you delicate flowers to hurt yourselves.”

Honey shot daggers at the eldest Belden, while Di knotted her ebony brows and pursed her lips. Trixie, on the other hand, handled her anger in a more physical manner.

Her eyes sparking with indignation, Trixie elbowed Brian firmly in the gut.

“Oooph!” he gasped, doubled over from pain. “For a delicate flower, she packs quite a punch.”

“What did you do that for?” Jim demanded.

“To teach Brian that every rose has its thorns.” Trixie smiled in satisfaction and crossed her arms in front of her. “So, if you don’t want to get pricked, you’d better quit acting like such a Neanderthal.”

“Let the record show that I am getting my suitcase and my suitcase only,” Mart declared. “As far as I’m concerned, you squaws can load your own junk.”

“Here, here, Kemosabe,” Dan agreed, covering his own gut protectively.

With a disappointed shake of their heads, Jim and Brian began transferring the luggage to the van, without the assistance of their fellow men.

“So, we’ll meet you back here Saturday morning at 10:00,” Bob said to Miss Trask.

“That’s the plan,” she answered as she carefully double-checked her planner. “I’ll be sure to let you know if anything changes.”

“No problem,” he told her. “If you don’t need anything else once the boys get your stuff loaded in the van, Terry and I will take off.”

“Need me to go over the checklist before we get in the air?” Terry asked helpfully.

“Nah, I’ll take care of that, hon,” he ordered. “You go see if you can rustle me up a cup of coffee. Two sugars, one cream.”

Terry rolled her eyes, but nodded in agreement.

After he got on the plane, Miss Trask got into the driver’s seat. The boys closed the back doors of the van, and strutted proudly to the passenger doors.

Looking up at the girls, Mart sniffed proudly. “Your luggage is all loaded, squaws. And once we get to the resort, you can marvel at our brilliant packing procedure.”

“As if,” Honey snorted.

Dan shook his head and made a clucking sound with his tongue. “You naïve ladies have no understanding of the challenge involved in placing numerous suitcases in the back of a van. It’s an art form, really.”

“Puuh-leaze,” Di muttered, making a face. “You and Mart didn’t even help.”

“No matter how skeptical you try to sound, we know you’re impressed,” Jim crowed.

Trixie tossed her sandy curls and gave an indignant sniff. “If that’s what you want to believe, we won’t burden you with the truth.”

“Ah, little sister, you’re so cute when you feign indignation,” Brian said condescendingly.

Trixie sighed in exasperation. “They’re such male chauvinist pigs,” she muttered under her breath.

Terry nodded sympathetically then looked pointedly towards the cockpit of the jet. “And they don’t get any better when they grow up, either.”

The girls giggled as they walked over to the van. While they were getting inside, Terry called, “Have a great time! And boys… try not to perspire too much. I wouldn’t want to have to make you sit in the cargo hold during the trip home.”

Credits:

This is a fan fiction story based upon the characters in the Trixie Belden series. No profit is being made from these stories, although I sure would like to make a few bucks. *hint, Random House, hint* They are being written purely for my enjoyment, and for the enjoyment of my fellow Trixie fans.

Special thanks to my editors, Kathy W, Steph H, and Kaye who helped to make this story so much better!

The Graphics Fairy paid me a visit and left this beautiful watercolor of Blackwater Falls under my pillow. Graphics Fairy, I love you! Thank you for sharing your talent.

This story takes place at Blackwater Falls State Park and Resort, which is one of our family’s favorite places to visit. It’s a beautiful place, and I’ve tried to accurately describe the many features you can find at Blackwater Falls, but you have to visit to truly appreciate its beauty.

A huge thank you to Terry (AKA Chromasnake), who patiently answered all my questions about airplanes. She was very helpful in writing this story! To thank her properly, she was given a cameo at The Cameo, and is starring as Bob Murphy’s co-pilot.

The Wheeler jet is a Canadair. Since I am such a thorough writer, I went to great lengths to do research so I could get things right. When we flew to Maine this past summer, I purposely chose a flight on a Canadair. The one on which we flew was a bit bigger, but it was quite helpful to my writing.

The facts about West Virginia are all true. I hope this has been a plug for tourism to my home state. And remember to look me up if you ever pass through.

There are many theories as to why Dan stayed home for their adventures, so I decided to offer up my own explanation. It’s unique, if nothing else and has that Cameo silly twist to it.

This author doesn’t recommend using a curl for bungee jumping, no matter how springy it is. Such behavior could be harmful to your health, and The Cameo will not be held responsible for injuries received if said stunt is performed.

Dan’s panic because of the turbulence was based upon the real life events of a certain person who shall remain nameless. =D Okay… it was me! However, for the record, I didn’t scream. But I did ask if something important fell out of the plane.

In the interest of keeping all profanity from this site, The Cameo refuses to disclose the actual words muttered by Dan during his panic attack. Upon landing, Miss Trask briskly marched him into a restroom and proceeded to wash his mouth out with soap.

Valium is a drug given to make one calm. It has not been confirmed if Mrs. Wheeler really takes it or not.

Mr. T is a popular character on the 80’s TV show, “The A Team”. He’s very tough, and I pity da fool who teases him for being afraid to fly.

The phrase “Don’t ever let ‘em see ya sweat” was, in fact, featured in a popular deodorant commercial. And I’m not skirting around the name of the product to avoid copyright issues; I just don’t remember which one it was. J

Gucci and Coach are famous designers.

For the record, Peter Belden does not wear pink panties.

Nair is a famous product used for hair removal. I’ve heard that it’s not good to put it in shampoo bottles, but that’s another story… For other hair removal tips, please rent the feature “A Sticky Situation”, which can be found elsewhere in this universe.

There is no conspiracy by women to remove distinction from the sexes in medical books, and even if there was, Oliver Stone would not make a movie about it because it would be really, really boring.

The “thlumber party” reference goes back to my “All I Want for Christmas” story, featured in this same universe.

There is a mystery, hence the name, “The Mystery at Blackwater Falls”, that will be introduced in the next chapter of this story.